


Free To Come And Go

by Anielka



Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Angst, Gen, Laurent doesn't recognize Damen AU, Laurent's POV, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2019-08-03 19:02:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,358
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16331738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Anielka/pseuds/Anielka
Summary: Laurent stared blankly at the slave kneeling before him; this tall, dark, strong man.Hands and feet tied up and his mouth gagged; soft, long curls trapped in the way of the rope.The muscles in both his arms and legs were strained and worn with effort. The golden collar and cuffs shining brightly against the olive skin. Laurent was sure getting him in those must have been a herculean job."I hear the King of Akielos has sent me a gift." He said without tearing his eyes away.Laurent is gifted a bed slave, but Laurent doesn't need a bed slave, much less one who is so clearly not a slave. So he lets the man go, not knowing that that is the Prince-Killer.





	Free To Come And Go

**Author's Note:**

> THIS HAS BEEN IN MY NOTES FOR, AT LEAST, YEAR AND A HALF  
> I HATE MYSELF
> 
> I've been so excited about this one, my first CaPri work, wow.

 

 

Laurent stared blankly at the slave kneeling before him; this tall, dark, strong man.

Hands and feet tied up and his mouth gagged; soft, long curls trapped in the way of the rope.

The muscles in both his arms and legs were strained and worn with effort. The golden collar and cuffs shining brightly against the olive skin. Laurent was sure getting him in those must have been a herculean job.

"I hear the King of Akielos has sent me a gift." He said without tearing his eyes away.

Councilor Guion spoke. “He is intended as a pleasure slave, but he isn’t trained. Kastor,” the slave tensed at the name, pulling on his restraints, “suggested that you might like to break him at your leisure.”

“Oh? Does _Kastor_ have another suggestion?”

"We were told it would please the King of Akielos if he were to be called," a doubtful pause, "Damen."

Prince-killer.

A Prince-killer dummy for Laurent to tear apart, now that Prince Damianos was dead. Now that his chance for revenge was stolen.

Laurent took another look at the man. He looked angry, uncomfortable, hungry and thirsty. He had been brought against his will to his country's enemy Prince as a bed-slave, stripped down of his honor and dignity, tied up like a dog to bow to a man for whom he felt no respect.

He could somewhat relate, and something inside him ached.

He bent down before the slave, who, in extreme defiance, looked up and met his eyes.

Akielon or not, this man was something.

Laurent took in the view: big, dark eyes, filled with hurt, with anger. With determination, he noticed, surprised. Something strong boiled behind those eyes.

This was a man on a mission. And being on Vere was keeping him from it.

He resolved quickly.

"Give him a bath and new clothes." He rose from the floor, looking away from the slave for the first time.

No one was moving.

"Now" he growled. And walked away to his rooms.

 

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

"The servant is clean and dressed, your Highness."

"Bring him here," Laurent ordered. "After you get rid of the cuffs."

The servant bowed before leaving.

Minutes later, the dark slave entered the room, looking much better than he had earlier. His skin glowing under the light of the room, a shiny look, rubbed with oils. His shredded clothes replaced with new white ones. His curls combed and arranged swiftly out of his face, his handsome features at display.

Handsome?

Yes. Definitely.

Broad foreign features accentuated with high cheekbones. Full lips tightened into a straight line. And his eyes, still strong, still rebellious, still wordlessly marvelous.

"Come closer," Laurent ordered when he noticed the servant wasn't moving away from a spot near the door, and immediately regretted it.

The servant's presence was a lot to bear. He walked high and proud, he moved not like a submissive servant, but as a man of status. A general, a captain, maybe even a noble.

Laurent wondered how such a man came to be forced into such a fate.

"What is your name?" He asked.

"Damen" came the answer, his voice low and raspy.

"I will not be insulted like that and neither will you," Laurent snarled. He would not give this man the name of his enemy. Would not allow this new King Kastor, nor his Uncle, to ruin one more thing.

As the slave regarded him, Laurent got a hold on himself.

"It is of no importance. You will be free by night."

"Free?" Came the question. Laurent looked at the man and found a dumbstruck expression over his features. "You would free me?"

"You are no servant," Laurent told him. "No akielon slave speaks veretian." Or walks with such elegance. "And there are no slaves in Vere."

"Why were you sent here?"

The akielon giant took his time before answering.

"I was betrayed," his voice faltered a bit over the last word, "by my brother and lover. They sent me here to meet a fate worse than death."

"And what would that be?"

"Serving you."

"You are not needed here."

The other man nodded softly.

"I know"

Laurent chose to ignore that comment.

"You are to leave immediately. The guards already know their orders. You will be taken to the main entrance and out of the city.”

The man stood up, deliberately slow and careful. He started moving towards the door but stopped just a few steps before it.

He turned around to see Laurent and bowed. Not too deeply, but respectfully.

"I thank you, Prince Laurent." He said, his voice grave and serious. "This kindness will not be forgotten. When all is done on my side, I will repay this deed."

And before Laurent could ask what he meant, he straightened and walked out of the room.

 

 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

 

Weeks later, Laurent felt like he had been bewitched.

His thoughts, usually organized and quick, seemed to slumber under the memory of strong arms and dark, deep eyes.

His own senses seemed to betray him, he saw phantoms of his face over some windows, he heard his voice, soft, low, and careful, when he was alone. Now and then, he could swear he felt the slave's steps following him around the castle.

He couldn't seem to let it go, no matter how hard he tried.

Laurent scolded himself for thinking about an enemy so much.

Not really an enemy now, he mused. He had promised to repay the favor done to him, and that could be used in his mission. Better to consider him an asset than an obstacle, even if he had no idea how he was going to help. Perhaps as a mediator between the Kyros, he had been writing to? An akielon speaking highly of him could be helpful.

A messenger came rushing through the doors of his room.

Laurent raised his head and prepared a bitchy remark, but stopped himself when he saw the urgency in the man's eyes

"What is it?"

The messenger looked at him, wide-eyed, and said:

"Word has come from Akielos. King Damianos has returned. Walked in through the castle doors with an army from Delpha, and accused his brother and sister-in-law of treason. Kastor and his wife, the Lady Jokaste, were found guilty and taken prisoners."

Laurent took the news silently, working over each part mechanically. The whore and the bastard were gone now, which was an advantage to his plans and a problem for his Uncle.

On the other side...

King Damianos.

 _'Prince-killer'_ his mind hissed, venom and poison leaking everywhere.

He was thought to be dead. His own people believed him to be dead! How could a dead man return from the shadow of death-

A horrible memory startled him suddenly:

"I was betrayed by my brother and my lover."

 

No.

 

"You are no servant"

 

 **No**.

 

No, no, no.

 

"We were told it would please King Kastor if he were to be called Damen."

 

It was not possible!

 

"When all is done on my side..."

 

NO!

 

"What is your name?"

 

"Damen"

 

Damen. Damianos. Prince-killer.

 

He had him in his hands. Had his brother's murderer on golden cuffs and collar and he let him go.

 

"You would free me?" He had asked.

 

He had known, he knew who Laurent was, why he should have been angry, knew he had been sent to serve the man that hated him with his whole soul, his body, his being.

 

No akielon slave spoke the veretian tongue or moved with such grace.

 

Laurent had thought so himself.

 

He was a fool!

A fool!

 

He could have had his revenge, slowly, quickly, anyway, anyway, and he set it free.

 

 **Fool**.

 

The messenger was still standing in front of him. Laurent returned his gaze to him and spoke softly.

"Does my uncle know?"

"He sent me here to tell you, Your Highness."

Fuck.

"I see."

Of course.

Of course, his uncle knew.

His uncle knew everything; he knew that that slave was Damianos. He probably laughed when he heard Laurent had sent him free.

"Leave me." He told the messenger.

The second he was alone, Laurent lost all control to his rage.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Kudos? Comments? Opinions?  
> All are appreciated in this house!  
> If you see any typos please, please tell me!
> 
> Also! Come talk to me about Captive Prince in Twitter @Anielka-Ela  
> I'm always a slut for CaPri ;3


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